87
by Queerasil
Summary: The true origins of Balloon Girl, Mangle, and the Bite of '87.


"Happy birthday to you. Happy birthday to you. Happy birthday dear Claire... Happy birthday to you." The chorus of party guests' voice were rough and unbalanced, but the sentiment was there. Claire smiled as her mother lit the candles, and one-by-one they flickered, nearly going out before staying strong and steady.

"Make a wish, Claire," her mother smiled. Claire was ten, and old enough to know that wishes didn't come true, but that didn't stop her from closing her eyes, smiling, and blowing out her candles.

As soon as the candles went out, Claire's brother started cutting the cake and yelling about presents. He was four, annoying and impatient as one so young should be. "What'd ya wish for," her brother demanded.

Claire giggled. Her wish was a secret, and even though she didn't believe it would come true, she still hoped that it somehow could.

Once the cake was eaten and the presents were opened (Claire got new socks, a few dolls, and an ugly sweater from her grandmother), Claire's mother dismissed the kids to run around the pizzeria, and each kid ran off to do their own thing. Some kids went to the prize corner, and others ran straight for the arcade games. Claire didn't know the kids very well, and she was sure her mother only invted them so she wouldn't be lonely. She didn't even know a few of the kids' names.

The clock chimed six o'clock as the animatronics whirled to life and began to play their song. The kids cheered and Claire covered her ears to avoid the noise.

Claire – somehow – was bored. Despite the atmosphere of joy around her, it was all rather dull. She had no interest in games or prizes or running around. Quietly, she made her way away from all the others and back further into the restaurant.

She found a quiet little place called Kids' Cove to spend her time. No one was there, but that wasn't a surprise – the room was in ruin. The table lined with party hats was gathering dust, and the kids drawings on the walls were dated '86. To top it all off, in the corner of the room, was a broken, twisted and destroyed animatronic.

Claire new she should leave it alone, but she just couldn't. The animatronic – whether active or not – didn't deserve to be left there in disrepair.

She decided to take it upon herself to fix it, one part at a time. Slowly, she kneeled down next to it and picked up a few loose pieces. Two screws, a nut, a bolt, and an eye. An eye of a different color.

It couldn't be... that _thing's_ eye – could it? No. Wrong shape, wrong color, too small. Claire dismissed the idea seconds after she thought of it.

Still, it needed an eye. How would it see otherwise?

Claire picked up the held the eye it tightly in her hand. There was a small crack along the back, but otherwise, it was fine enough. She brushed the eye against her skirt, rubbing the dust off and polishing it. It looked nearly shiny and new when she was done.

She smiled. "Here you go," she whispered, as she placed the eye inside it's empty socket.

Claire sat in wonder for a while, unsure if anything would happen.

It blinked.

Claire jumped back. The animatronic – whatever it was – slowly came to life. She could hear gears whirling and rust-ridden parts creak as it slowly moved. It's body, all bended and contorted and out of place, began to untangle themselves. It's other head spun around, and it's body screeched as the metal rubbed together for the first time in far too long. It's jaw swung open and shut, with two sets of sharp, rusty, terrible teeth proudly displayed. It's arms, disjointed and misshapen, grinded against the ground as it tried to pick itself up. Claire backed up as the thing rose to it's full height. It towered over her, at least three times her height. A faint sound of static emanated from it's mouth. Claire swore she heard someone speaking through the static. Faint words, but important words.

She stood there for a long time, staring up at it. It stared back, unblinking and inanimate. The room was silent and still, aside from the increasingly erratic static.

Claire considered running away, but that idea was gone as quickly as it came. Why go outside with all those other kids she didn't even know when she could stay here with her new friend?

Claire took a deep breath and stepped closer to the thing. She stood up straight, and looked right up into it's eyes. "Hi," she said, feeling incredibly brave.

Nothing but static.

"Um..." She took another little step closer. "I'm Claire. What's your name?"

Again, nothing.

Claire scratched her head. Suddenly, she got a brilliant idea. "Want to play a game? Want to play Hide and Seek?"

The static slowly got quieter, and it's head creaked down to look at her.

Claire gestured to the door. "I can hide, and you can come find me."

It's jaw swung open. (It occurred to Claire that the "rust" on it's teeth was not coppery, but reddish brown.)

Claire swallowed thickly. "Well, wanna play?"

The static stopped. Claire interpreted the silence as a yes. She smiled. "Great! Close your eyes."

With a clang, the thing's eyes slammed shut. Claire tip-toed silently out of the room and down the hall, farther away from the restaurant. There weren't many places to hide, and most of the rooms were locked, except for one door to a room filled with TV screens. Claire hid under a table and positioned herself so she could watch TV. But – to her surprise – it wasn't TV she was watching, but video cameras from the restaurant. She could see her mother and brother near the ball pit, and a few of her "friends" in the prize corner. She could also see that Kids' Cove was empty, meaning that thing was probably on it's way.

Twenty-minutes later, Claire started to notice the restaurant emptying. Even her family and "friends" left. Claire would've started to worry, but it didn't matter to her. She had such a good hiding place! She thought she'd never leave.

Eventually, even the employees left. Claire wasn't scared, though. She was having far too much fun.

One thing was odd, though. The other animatronics – Freddy, Chica, and Bonnie, had left the stage, Chica was standing in front of a paper plate in one room, Bonnie was in the halls, and Freddy was nowhere to be seen. She wondered where her friend was. She couldn't see him on the cameras, and he was nowhere to be seen.

A loud screech sounded outside the door. Claire jumped back and hit her head against the table, but she was too frightened to notice the pain. She edged to the side, peaking just a bit out from under the table to see Chica in the vent. Her beak was missing, and she didn't look very friendly anymore. Slowly, quietly, Claire did the same to the other vent and found Bonnie in there as well.

She could just barely make out Freddy down the hall. She could hear his song playing quietly.

Now Claire started to worry. Where was her friend? She didn't like any of the other animatronics. They reminded her of her other "friends". She wanted her mangled friend to find her.

Claire closed her eyes and curled in on herself. She could hear Freddy's song getting louder and louder, as though he was getting closer and closer. She could hear footsteps to her left, right where Chica's vent was. She could hear wheezing to her right, which must have been Bonnie. But no static. She would've done anything for static.

Suddenly, Freddy's song stopped. So did the footsteps, and the wheezing. In it's place was the low buzz of static that could only belong to her friend.

Claire opened her eyes. Standing around her in a perfect triangle were Chica, Freddy, and Bonnie. She could just see her friend down the hall, hanging from the ceiling.

She gasped, and instantly slapped her hands on her mouth. The second she made noise, all three animatronics' heads swiveled instantly towards her.

Claire could see her friend down the hall. She heard the static, loud and blasting, and the words garbled within it. She could faintly make out the words 'help' and 'police'.

Claire peeked out again from under the table. Freddy was staring right at her. His big, glassy, dead eyes stared blankly at her. The same was true for Chica and Bonnie. Her mangled friend was the only one who looked at her like she was really there.

If she could get to her friend, she would be safe. It was her only chance for escape.

Claire took a deep breath and ran.

Needless to say, she didn't get very far. Almost the second she left under the table, Freddy, Chica and Bonnie sped towards her, trapping her between them all. She was stuck.

At the end of the hall, she could still see her friend._ Her friend_, she thought._ I wonder if it thinks I'm_ _it's friend too._

Claire looks up at Freddy. Up close, he's not nearly as friendly as he is from far away. His smile – usually so comforting and sweet – looks fake and forced.

All of Freddy is fake, in fact. That's something Claire should have realized. Freddy and all the others are just robots. Even her friend. They have no more life in them than there is life in one of her dolls. They're fake. Not threats and not friends. Just fake.

But she isn't fake. She's real. Flesh and breath and blood and bone and so much more. She can think and feel, and that's more than she can say for any of them. She's alive, and they're not. Why does she keep forgetting that?

Claire takes a deep breath and pushes Freddy aside. The second her hand touches the rough fabric of his leg, the room freezes in tension.

Claire stops. Freddy's neck creaks as he looks down at her. Claire looks at her friend down the hall one last time before everything turns black.


End file.
